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Zhuzhi-lang traced a careful hand down Wen Ning’s chest. His fingers skirted over the beautiful mess of raised lines and stitched skin; it wasn’t easy to tell which scars were from before Wen Ning’s resurrection and which were gained after. The intersecting marks and divots were so numerous that they bled into each other to create a stunning display of calamity.
The way that humans wore their past pain for all to see, bodies decorated with hardship and misfortune, sickness and woe, was endlessly fascinating to Zhuzhi-lang. As a heavenly demon, his skin could tear and knit itself back together seamlessly so he didn’t have many scars himself.
Only the place where he was stabbed through with Zheng Yang held traces of the old wound. The healing ability of his kind was unparalleled and typically took care of even the most grievous of injuries.
Of course, Zhuzhi-lang’s body had other imperfections that humans were incapable of imagining but that was its own jar of snakes.
“Is it…” Wen Ning’s soft voice faltered. “...bad?”
Zhuzhi-lang glanced up. His cheek rested on the firm muscle of Wen Ning’s bare shoulder so he had to tilt his head slightly to look Wen Ning in the eye. Muddy yellow irises met pitch black.
“Why would the story of your body be bad,” Zhuzhi-lang wondered. Could it be that humans disliked their scars as much as Zhuzhi-lang hated his scales? Or… “Do the markings ache? Should I not touch them?”
Zhuzhi-lang made to sit up but Wen Ning shook his head.
“No. Or, or I guess they might if I were still alive but I…well…” Wen Ning paused. He often needed time to get his thoughts in order but Zhuzhi-lang was more than willing to wait. After a long moment, Wen Ning continued: “You can feel things.”
“I can.”
“My skin…it can’t feel good.”
Zhuzhi-lang squinted in confusion. “Why not?”
“It’s rough.”
“Yes, I know,” Zhuzhi-lang agreed. He smiled mildly, relieved that texture was the issue. “It’s one of the things I like about you.”
“...”
Wen Ning stared at him with unblinking eyes; Zhuzhi-lang’s cheeks flushed under the gaze.
“Not in a weird way,” Zhuzhi-lang rushed to add. “I just think it’s more interesting to touch things that aren’t smooth.”
“That’s–”
“It helps with shedding.” Ah!! Why did he mention that!? Zhuzhi-lang glanced away out of sheer embarrassment. “Which I don’t do in this form! Wen-gongzi please rest assured that you won’t find my skin anywhere it doesn’t belong. And I will warn in advance on the off chance that – why are you laughing?”
Wen Ning pressed his lips together to muffle the raspy sound but the two of them laid so close together that Zhuzhi-lang could feel the slight shaking of his mirth. Zhuzhi-lang crossed his arms; he couldn’t help but feel a little put out. Was what he said truly so strange as to be funny? Why were humans like this??
“Ah, don’t misunderstand,” Wen Ning said. He gave Zhuzhi-lang a wobbly smile, hindered by the low elasticity of his dead skin. “I just think you’re wonderful.”
“Oh.” Zhuzhi-lang swallowed. He hadn’t expected that. “Well, I think the same about you.”
“R–really?”
“Mmhm. I think everything about you is just – good.” Zhuzhi-lang was sure his face and ears were an unseemly red but he pushed aside the bashful feelings that threatened to consume him and leaned down to press a shy kiss against the scar just under Wen Ning’s collarbone. His unbound hair became a much needed curtain to hide his face. It gave him the courage to complete his thought. “You’re a good person.”
“So is Zhuzhi-lang,” Wen Ning said as he carefully brushed Zhuzhi-lang’s hair behind his ear. They both simply looked at each other for a long moment, and then:
“You can use me to help shed if you want.”
The snake demon let out a strangled noise and tried to move away but Wen Ning had already circled his arms around Zhuzhi-lang’s back. Zhuzhi-lang was known for being slippery, it wouldn’t be hard to escape the embrace…
He didn’t want to.